Clean Slate?
by NegativeXero
Summary: This is a new Comic character I've created.
1. Chapter 1

As all good dark stories start, this one too starts during a very loud, and very wet thunder storm. Sparks of lightning light up the night, and Concrete Prison. This prison has seen it's many storms, and it's many criminals. But in the end, the storms are the only ones that ever get to leave. No criminal has ever successfully escaped Concrete, and for all extensive purposes, no criminal ever will. But, the storm isn't leaving this evening, not without taking someone with it.

Several guards are watching a few criminals, as they do their nightly shores of moving dumpsters, emptying trash, you know, all the fun stuff you can do in a thunderstorm. On ground level, through a window, another guard watches on. Behind him a door, which leads to the 1st of three basement floors. This floor hold all the murderers, rapists, etc etc. All the bad elements of life are here. Down the Long corridor, and horseshoe around, encompassing all of it's 60 convicts, is another door down, to the 2nd floor. This floor is reserved for the dangerous men who have gone beyond murder, and made it as wantan as breathing. These select few have killed even in the prison, some have tried to escape. Some are cannibals, skin wearers, or other sick sadistic shit. This floor is not for the humanly possible.

As the hallway horseshoes again, with only aroun 20 convicts on this floor. There is another door, with two huge Halogen lightbalbs pointed at it, and 3 guards stacked to the teeth, as well as a guard station. You need 4 different keys to unlock this door, and 2 men to open the foot thick titanium door. Nothing is getting out from the other side. Inside the door, and down a few steps. Is one room, lit up like the sun, no real heat, just constant light. All running off a seperate hidden generator. In the center of this room, one man, strapped to a chair, his head hung down. Not a very muscular man, nor a very tall man. In fact, an ordinary man, placed in a room, to be forgotten by people, and time. But not tonight, the storm has come, and by a twist of god's hand, The Storm has found what it came for.

A few days worth of stubble accent his face as he looks up at the door for what seems like the hundredth time this hour. He flexes his fist, the straps around his wrist, and to the arm of the chair, resist any movement, and hold his arms fast. His legs are equally resisting of any type of movement. Another strap around his chest, hold him the the back of his chair. He was not meant to ever get up out of it, and it has not failed in the 3 years he's been down here. He can hear the storm, he can feel the thunder.

Outside, while the cons are working, lightning strikes a guards, he falls back and lays still. A cons tries to make a run for the fallen guards gun. As he does, another guards blasts a nice softball size hole in his side. The rest of the guards attack, soon the guards are overrun, and trying to find a way out. But not out of Concrete, there is one way out, and one way in, by helicopter only. And there will be no flying of a chopper in this weather.

Hoping to open some type of magical door that doesn't exist, a con start blasting generators. This was the Cons last mistake as a human being. Inside the 3rd floor basement room. This lone convict hears the commotion going on, and looks at the door. At that same time, the lights go off. And for the first time in 3 years, of this one cons life, there is complete and udder darkness, he will be leaving now. In the darkness outside of the room, the guards are cussing, and trying to use flashlights, which for some reason, don't work. And not a minutes later...silence, dead silence.

"What the fuck? My flashlight, it won't work." "mine either." "ditto boys. But fuck it, we can't leave this-" He's cut off by another gurad. "Shh, listen..." "what? I don't hear anything...no gunfire, not even the storm, it's like it just...stopped"

As soon as he finishes his sentence, you can hear the titanium doors hinges stressing, then a large metal ripping sound, then nothing, not even a scream. Outside, cons were everywhere, trying to scale the 30 foot high, 4 foot thick concrete walls. The lone mans walks outside, simply out of the darkness, several cons stop and watch, knowing who he is, and watching. And without a word, he starts walking up dark manifested steps, to the top of the wall. Many cons try to follow, but simply go through the manifestation. he gets to the top, and steps down anothers set of manifested stairs. As soon as his feet touch the earth...the storm ceases immediately, returning to a clear night.

As he strarts to walk away, he hears a voice in his head, and he looks to what seems to be a burning ficus. 'You have been freed for one reason sinner, redemption. For every sin you have commited, you must make up for, and for every sin you wish to commit, you must make up for twice as much. And if you refuse to not make up for any of your sins, then I shall choose to end your existance.' The man smirks, and says one thing. "Vengeance." the voice comes back 'Vengeance will be granted and forgiven by me, if you agree to this deal. Know, that when you agree, you will work for me, and the tasks that will erase your sins, will be given by me. You will be my hand of vengeance, you will be my PURGE against others like you. Ultimately, I created you, I can destroy you.' The man thinks for a moment, and without a word, nods, and carry's on.


	2. Chapter 2

Finding a place to sleep wasn't hard for him. He walked down a dark ally, and in next to a dumpster, he slid into the darkness. The voice came again, before he fell asleep.

"I have decided your first acts of redemption will be of the last people you've killed, before you were caught, and don't worry, I still remember the three guards from earlier"

The growls in pain, as he lifts his shirt to look at his chest, to see three scorched tally marks appear there.

"These are just a reminder that I have not forgotten about your recent misdeeds."

The man held his chest, and for the first time since he was boy, he was solemn. He lowered his head, and silently agreed to the deed.

"You remember your last murders, don't you? Right before Detective James Wisely caught you."

The man sneered at the name, a manifestation of darkness struck out, like a pitch black tentacle, hitting the dumpster, putting a crater in the side, and sending it 15 feet away.

He remembered it, three and a half years ago. It was night, around three a.m… While fleeing a detective, he broke into a home. He was very quiet, the family would never have known. But, the child, who just wanted a damn glass of water, saw him, and told her parents.

First the father came down, with a 7 iron, what good will that do. The father attempted a swing, and black tentacle came out, and grabbed the club, pulling it, and the father into the air. The tentacle pulled him closer to the killer's face, who spoke.

"I just want shelter, I will leave you and your family unharmed. Understood"

The father looked scared, stuttering his words.

"Well, too late, my wife is calling the cops"

He then kicked the killer in the gut. The killer had no time for this, with another tentacle grabbing the father's waist, and his original grabbing his chest, he ripped him in half like Atlas ripping a phone book. The Father let out a horrid gurgle, the girl let out a scream, and the mother could be heard up stairs. He went up stairs, leaving the girl to scream at her father's crimson corpse.

Once up stairs, he saw the mother on the phone. With a nod to her, she started screaming as she held her head in pain, her eyes bulged, and her head swelled. She tried holding it together, but in the end, it exploded like a tomato, and a black sphere was left on her neck, where her head used to be.

Downstairs, the girl tried to run, but the doors were all of a sudden covered by a huge black wall. The girl ran under the kitchen table, crying. The killer approached, and threw the table, and she look up at him. He knelt down, and with a stoic face, rubbed the tears from her eyes, hen broke her neck. The Detective was close, he had to leave.

"Her name was Ashley. She was nine years old. Such a waste."

The man came out of his thoughts, and spoke.

"The Dead are still dead; she is my memory, not yours." His voice gruff, and stoic.

"True and here is your target. A few miles down the road, there is a elementary school. Outside that school, during the night, men deal drugs, mostly to children who sneak out at night. You must kill these drug dealers. They have killed before, so their fate is set. Are we clear?"

The just nods, standing up. 'No sleep tonight, he thinks.' He walks off towards the school; perhaps he will get a set of house keys out of it.


End file.
